


Know You're Not Alone

by HarkaSun



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood Is The Ultimate Husband, Alec Lightwood Loves Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood Provides Comfort, Alec Lightwood Provides Those Hugs, Cemetery, Don't push me away, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Magnus Bane, George (mentioned), Husbands, M/M, Magnus Bane Has Panic Attacks, Magnus Bane Needs A Hug, POV Alec Lightwood, Past Character Death, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War Graves, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25147687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarkaSun/pseuds/HarkaSun
Summary: There are certain points during the year when Magnus will just stop. After three years of marriage, Alec has anticipated and listed all the dates when Magnus will close up on him, when his husband will become unresponsive.Now, it is April 30th, and Alec elects to discover the cause of his husband's suffering in an attempt to do anything he can to assist in the prevention of his pain. What he finds are Magnus's memories.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 196





	Know You're Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Based on my own headcanon that George was a British Sergeant in WW1 who served with Magnus in the British Occupation of the Jordan Valley  
> (I actually did research for this one; someone be proud of me!)

There are certain points during the year when Magnus will just stop.

After three years of marriage, Alec has learned to anticipate them. It might be as soon as he wakes up in the morning, or it might be halfway through the day, or even just before they retire for bed. Sometimes it is a few hours, sometimes a day or two, but during that time Magnus will be almost entirely unresponsive.

Alec will find him standing or sitting at the window, staring and silent. More often than not, it will rain. Alec never knows if it is coincidence, or if Magnus’s mood is causing his magic to go a little haywire and affect the weather. He doesn’t doubt that his husband’s magic and emotions are that strong.

All he knows is that he makes tea that Magnus doesn’t touch, food that he doesn’t even spare a glance at. If Magnus is sat—which he usually is—then Alec will drape a blanket over his shoulders when it gets dark, kiss the crown of his head and ask if he needs anything.

Magnus never replies with words. Sometimes—barely more than twice—he had shaken his head. Alec wants to cry on the days when Magnus would get like this. Crying will do his husband no good, however, so Alec saves his tears for when he lies alone in their bed, curling up against Magnus’s unused pillow to stifle his sobs.

The hours would pass, the days dragging by, and Magnus would gradually improve, swapping from sitting to standing, walking around every so often, going out to sit on the balcony. Alec watches him sometimes through the glass doors. He sees Magnus’s wedding ring catch the light as he threads his fingers through the fur of the cats that flock to him. It is the only piece of jewellery he keeps on when he gets like this.

Then, one day, Alec will wake up to the smell of breakfast, of pancakes or bacon, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and newly cut flowers, and he will enter the kitchen to see Magnus setting out food on the table. His husband will smile at him. He will place Alec’s mug in his hand and kiss his cheek, murmur his good mornings.

“Everything okay?” Alec says; every time, he says it.

Magnus will just give him a small smile and say “everything is” and then insert some positive adjective. Everything is wonderful, beautiful, lovely, perfect.

Alec has learned not to push him from the first time, when he panicked and called Catarina. Magnus wouldn’t talk to him and she told him that Magnus just got like that sometimes and that Alec needed to give him space. On the morning when everything was better, Alec launched into questioning, simply out of anxiety for Magnus’s wellbeing.

The warlock had closed up on him. They had fought. That was the only time either of them had ever yelled at the other during their marriage. The look of devastation on Magnus’s face after he realised that he had shouted at him made Alec retract his questions immediately. He elected to never push him again.

Now, it is a Tuesday, and Magnus isn’t in bed when Alec’s alarm wakes him. He turns it off with a careless tap, pushes himself up to his elbows.

“Magnus?”

He receives no response and immediately grabs his journal from the side. It is mainly used for planning his weeks at work, but the notes page at the back is filled with dates when Magnus would get like this. He flicks to it and runs a finger down the too-long list, stops when he finds todays date.

_April 30 th: he might be bad until May 4th (remember to be patient!)_

Alec sighs and presses a hand to his forehead, mentally steeling himself for what he was walking out to, before he sets his journal down and gets out of bed. He dresses before he leaves, his usual dark attire save for a lighter shirt. Magnus likes him in purple.

“Purple is for pride,” he had said when Alec questioned him on it one day. He had smoothed a hand down the front of Alec’s deep purple shirt. “Pride looks good on you.”

In the main room, Magnus is standing at the window, as expected, his arms crossed over his chest like he’s trying to hold himself together. He could have been carved of stone he stands so silent and still.

“Hey,” Alec says, half hoping that his journal is wrong, that Magnus will turn and smile and greet him like it’s a normal day.

He doesn’t.

Alec closes his eyes briefly, taking a breath and coming to stand at Magnus’s side, an arm around his waist. “Sweetheart, can I get you anything?” As usual, there is no reply. Alec sighs softly, kisses his temple. “I’m going to make you some tea. You can sit down if you want.”

Magnus doesn’t answer. Alec knows he won’t for a while. It breaks his heart.

Alec makes him his favourite tea, some caramel stuff that Magnus puts together himself. Alec had learned to make it long ago, before they were even married. When the tea is ready, he brings it into the main room, sets it on the dresser beside the window.

“I need to go to work, sweetheart,” says Alec, gently holding Magnus’s arm. “I’ll be back at five, but I want you to try and drink your tea, try and eat something while I’m gone, okay?”

Magnus doesn’t answer. Alec fights not to sigh.

Going to work feels wrong, but Alec needs to. He is an integral part of The Clave—the final decision-maker on disputed downworlder issues—and, without him, Alec fears the shadowhunters slipping back into their old ways of wide-spread institutionalised racism towards those with demon blood.

Sitting at his desk, however, Alec can barely concentrate. The words are swimming in front of his eyes and he cannot get his mind off of Magnus.

It isn’t the first time this has happened, far from it, and Alec knows it won’t be the last, but it doesn’t mean that it gets any better. He wants to help, but he doesn’t know how. Magnus is always strong and capable, and he has his darkness, but most of the time it is this big an issue.

Alec doesn’t know what’s wrong about today.

The only place he will discover the truth is back at the apartment. Magnus has leather-bound books, grimoires and ledgers and journals, his entire life laid out in the tanned and worn pages of those books. The answer must be somewhere in there. Magnus probably won’t even notice if Alec goes through them right in front of him.

So, barely three hours into the day, Alec gathers up the files on his desk, tucks them under her arm, and leaves for home.

When he gets back to The Loft, he freezes as he opens the door, halts and just listens. There is a sound in the apartment that Alec has never heard before. It is crying. More importantly, it is _Magnus_ crying. The warlock clearly wasn’t expecting Alec to be home so soon.

He’s seen his husband cry before, but he’s never actually _heard_ it. Not like this.

Closing the door as quietly as he can, Alec seeks out the source and finds Magnus with his hands braced to the kitchen island. His box of mementos is open in front of him and now Alec at least partly understands. Magnus’s head is bowed as shudders run through his shoulders, racking his entire body in breathless sobs. It is heart-wrenching to listen to.

“Magnus.”

He had tried to make it gentle, but his husband inhales sharply, immediately lifting his head. His arm moves, slamming the box in front of him shut, before a practiced hand comes to wipe quickly at his face. Alec’s eyes narrow, sympathy and sorrow flooding his heart.

“Magnus, sweetheart…”

The warlock shakes his head, but says nothing. Alec isn’t having it; he won’t accept silence when Magnus is like this. Hurrying forward before Magnus can run, Alec grabs his arm—not enough to hurt him—just enough to keep him firmly in place. Another sob catches in Magnus’s throat and he fights to turn his face away.

“Magnus, it’s okay,” Alec insists, holds him with both hands now, one on either arm. “Hey, look at me. It’s okay. You’re allowed to cry, Magnus. It’s okay if you need to cry.”

Magnus wipes a hand to his eyes, trying to fix his smudged eyeliner and it helps a little, but Alec grabs his hand and forces it down.

“Magnus, stop, it’s okay,” he says, holding tight when his husband shakes his head again and tries to break free. “Magnus, listen to me. It’s okay. Just stop for a minute.”

Magnus breathes hard and blinked up at Alec, tear trails streaming down his cheeks. His expression crumples and he ducks his head, letting Alec pull him into a tight hug. Sobs rack Magnus’s entire body, his hands fisting into the front of Alec’s shirt. Alec just holds him.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s going to be alright,” he murmurs over and over, a hand lifting from Magnus’s shoulder to cradle the back of his head. “You’re safe with me. Everything’s okay. You’re alright.” He closes his eyes when Magnus just sobs harder. “Talk to me, Magnus. Please… if I understand why this happens, I might be able to help you.”

Magnus shakes his head, sniffs back a sob and exhales a trembling breath. “You can’t help me,” he whispers. “I lose so many people, Alec… I can’t lose you too.”

Alec thinks on that a moment, kisses the side of Magnus’s head. His eyes are on the box. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, because it is the only pet name he will give his husband. “If this is about the people you used to love… I want you to know that you can talk to me. I want to hear about them if you want to tell me.”

Magnus is quiet a long moment. He breathes shakily, pushes himself back a little from Alec’s chest. “I don’t want you to be jealous,” he says, shaking his head. “They’re just memories now, but I can’t…” He chokes on another sob and Alec lifts a hand to hold his arm. “I can’t get them out of my head.”

“Magnus,” Alec says, tightens the grip on his arm. “I’m not jealous of them. I understand that you loved them. You’ve lived so long. I know you couldn’t have gotten this far without loving people.” He slid his hand down to grab Magnus’s own, holds him lightly. “You can talk to me if you want. Tell me what today is.”

Magnus breathes out slowly, closes his eyes. “We were so close,” he whispers, shaking his head. “If I knew then how close we were to winning…” He lifts a hand to palm the unshed tears from his eyes. “It’s been one hundred and five years…”

“One hundred and five…” Alec begins, understanding suddenly. “God, Magnus is this…?”

“I lost him,” Magnus utters, closes his eyes. “I should have saved him. They shouldn’t have sent us there.”

Alec gently urges him to sit down, manages to get Magnus onto the sofa. “Magnus, is this the first world war? Is this George?”

Magnus nods shakily. “He was a British sergeant. We were fighting in Palestine,” he admits, lifts his gaze to Alec. A shaky breath racks his chest and brings tears to his eyes. “You remind me of him sometimes… I know that’s not fair. I know I shouldn’t think of him when I look at you. I usually don’t, it’s just… it’s just today…”

Alec lowers his gaze a little. He isn’t angry, not in the slightest. “How did it happen?”

Magnus exhales sharply, a mirthless breath. “It was war, Alec. How do you think it happened? He got shot.” He falters a little on that last part, his voice threatening to break and he has to stop, to close his eyes briefly and take a breath. “He died on the battlefield and he died in pain. He died telling me that he loved me… He died before I could say it back.”

There is silence a moment. Alec doesn’t know what to say.

“I knew you’d feel weird about it,” Magnus whispers, pulls away from him.

Alec shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Magnus, it’s not weird. You loved him.” He tilts his head a little. “Do you know where he was buried?”

Magnus’s jaw trembles and he shakes his head. “I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay,” Alec utters, leans in to kiss Magnus’s forehead. “It’s okay, just… just give me a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Magnus nods and Alec hates leaving him while he looks like that, but he wants to do something that might actually help. Maybe it’ll make everything worse, but he has to try. So, he goes to his laptop and opens it up. To his surprise, it doesn’t take long to find what he is looking for.

Magnus had given him all the information he needed.

When he returns to the main room, he holds out his hand for Magnus to take. “Are you up for making a portal?”

Magnus swallows hard, gently places his hand in Alec’s own and allows the shadowhunter to pull him to his feet. “Where are we going?” he asks.

“Jerusalem.”

Luckily, Magnus has been to the city before. He doesn’t ask any questions the entire time, but simply portals them in and keeps them glamoured for simple ease of movement as Alec guides him through the streets of the city. It is a bit of a hike, but Alec has determination and Magnus seems too curious to protest.

Atop a hill, they find a square of tan stone walls. Magnus pauses at its entrance, swallows hard as the stares up at the arch above wooden doors. It reads: _Jerusalem War Cemetery_. Magnus’s eyes scan the writing underneath. Alec waits for him to speak, but he doesn’t.

“Magnus,” he says, as gently as he can, drawing the dark eyes to his face. “It’s okay.”

“Why are you doing this?” Magnus asks, barely a whisper. There are tears in his eyes and Alec panics a moment when he considers that Magnus doesn’t want this. “Why would you want me here…? I married _you_ , Alec. How are you okay with me mourning someone else?”

Alec shakes his head. “Because you loved him.”

“He’s… He’s _gone_ , Alec.”

“It doesn’t mean you can’t mourn him,” says Alec, takes both of Magnus’s hands in his own. “I know you married me. I know you love me; you don’t have to worry about proving that because I know… I also know that you have lived for almost eight centuries and you couldn’t have gotten to me without loving them.”

He gently tugs on Magnus’s hands, coaxes him forward and the warlock obeys under his careful guidance. There is a soft pinch to his brow, like he has never considered it like that before. Alec knows it to be true, however.

Magnus had admitted his troubles in the past. Camille had saved his life. As much as Alec despised the vampire, considering what she had done made him understand that Magnus’s past lovers were integral to his survival. George had probably saved Magnus’s life. He had gotten Magnus this far. He had gotten Magnus to Alec.

The graves stretch out in rows upon rows of white stone. Odd flecks of crimson sport as roses growing in front of some of the graves. Magnus is breathing strangely beside him and Alec takes his hand, holds him tightly. It would make sense for them to split up, but Alec doesn’t want to be apart right now.

They head left. Alec had looked at the plan very briefly before they portalled in and he remembers most of it. Magnus stares at each grave as they pass, stops briefly at some with a furrowed brow, like he vaguely remembers this person but not quite enough.

Nestled between stranger’s names, Alec sees him.

“Magnus,” he says, as softly as he can, drawing the warlock’s gaze to the gravestone.

 _SERGEANT_  
G. AINSWORTH  
30TH APRIL 1918 AGE 21

_HE DID HIS DUTY_

Magnus absently touches the name, kneels before the gravestone. His head bows and the same hand comes to cover his face, stifling a sob into his palm. Alec closes his eyes briefly, overcome with his husband’s grief, and he lightly sets a hand to Magnus’s shoulder, fully prepared to be shrugged away.

Magnus reaches back to hold Alec’s hand over his shoulder, swallows and sighs shakily. As soon as it’s clear that Alec doesn’t want to push him away, Alec kneels with him in the warm grass, wraps his arm properly around the warlock’s shoulder and holds him close. Magnus leans into him.

Alec reads the gravestone over and over, lingers on that last part. “What does that mean?” he asks finally. “’He did his duty’?”

“I think it’s more of a generic message,” says Magnus, his voice thick with grief. “It’s when they… they don’t know what to say.”

Alec looks at it thoughtfully. “You could change it if you want.”

Magnus shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say either…” He breathes out slowly. “His mother probably chose it… It wouldn’t be right for me to change it.” A hand reaches forward, absent fingertips skimming across the message. “Besides, it’s true. He was brave. He did his duty.”

Blue magic flares his hands, solemn in its shade. Green stalks push their way out of the bare dirt in front of the grave, blooming into white roses, flowering right before their eyes. The magic fades slowly. Magnus turns his head to press against Alec’s chest.

“Thank you for doing this,” he says, breathed slowly in Alec’s arms. “I love you.”

Alec presses a hand to his jaw, gently kisses Magnus’s temple. “I love you too, sweetheart.” He strokes his hand through Magnus’s hair. “He would have been so proud of you, Magnus… We can come back here next year on this day or just… whenever you need to see him. If there’s anyone else you need to see, we can go there too.”

Magnus looks to him. “I don’t know where they are…”

“Then we find them,” says Alec, cradles his husband’s face in his hands. “You’re not alone anymore, Magnus. You don’t have to suffer in silence and you don’t have to do this on your own. I'm here for you, okay? I'm always here.”

Magnus’s eyes narrow and he leans up to give Alec a chaste kiss, their lips just barely skimming one another. He settles himself against Alec’s chest, gazing absently at the gravestone before them, occasionally casting his magic to clean dark spots from the aged stone or to scatter droplets of water across the dry dirt from which the roses grew.

There may be darkness inside him and his memories might cause him anguish, but Alec will be with his husband through every rise and fall. When they were married, it was a vow by Alec to never abandon him. Even in his darkest hours, Magnus is not alone.


End file.
